Bridget spun and landed a punch to Kareem’s face. His head snapped back and Miles looked momentarily surprised. “No one hurts my baby and gets away with it. Her father and I will be seeing you real soon. We’re going to have a chat about everything you know.”
“Geez, Mom, that’s so embarrassing. If you hadn't noticed, Zain left and had a look on his face that I’ve never seen before. I’m going to find out what he’s doing.”
“Wait for me,” Mila called after her. They wrapped their arms around each other and hobbled from the house. What a beat-up pair they were!
Annie and Cassidy, who had interpreted for them, stood next to the ATV with Suri’s secretary handcuffed to the steel roll cage. They watched Mo hop a fence, grab a hunk of mane on a horse, and swing himself up. With the squeeze of his legs, he shot off toward the house.
“There’s no way my ribs can stand riding a horse,” Abby muttered. “And our ride has been commandeered as prisoner transport.”
Mila watched as Miles took a pair of cuffs from Annie and similarly cuffed Kareem to the ATV before driving off in the direction of the security building. Mila shielded her eyes against the morning sun. “Do I see something or am I just losing consciousness?”
It appeared to be a dust storm moving toward them at great speed. Abby smiled. “My ribs may not be able to take this either, but my brother driving us will be faster than any horse.”
The minivan slid to a stop in a cloud of dirt and gravel. Mila coughed and covered her face. The side door slid open and Kale’s face finally came into view. “Anyone need a ride?” In the distance, the sounds of ATVs raced across the farm. The sound was broken by Bridget’s curse at her son for spilling chips in her van.
“Come on, Mila,” Abby said as Jackson helped her into the van. It didn’t help Ahmed’s mood when Abby sat in Jackson’s lap. The group piled in and Kale took off with country music blaring from the speakers, a police dog with his head out the window, a backseat filled with a prince, a football coach, and a very pissed-off Ahmed.
Zain threw open the front door and marched down the long hallway to the conference room. There was no clear train of thought going through his head as he placed the palms of his hands on the doors and shoved them open. No thoughts of consequences as he strode around the table. No notice of Suri quickly coming to her feet with questions in her eyes. He didn’t hear Piper stopping mid-sentence during the lecture. He didn’t see the gleeful twitch of Dylan’s lips as he placed his hand on his gun. The only thing Zain saw was red—the red military sash worn by the king of Tahjad as a show of his power.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Omar demanded as Zain closed in on him.
Zain didn’t bother to answer. He fisted Omar’s jacket in his hand and bodily pulled him from his chair. In one swift action, Zain let loose his cocked arm and plowed it into Omar’s stomach. Omar coughed and bent at the waist as politicians scrambled away from the scene.
“You all saw that. Prince Zain attacked me! Get him,” he ordered his men. Zain trusted Dylan to stop them. He heard Cy joining the tussle behind him and then Queen Suri demanding Omar’s guards stand down or her guards would be forced to defend her cousin.
“You think that’s an attack? Wait until you see what I do next,” Zain said through his clenched jaw. He grabbed a handful of slicked-back hair and dragged Omar out of the conference room. Omar’s hands reached out trying to prevent Zain from ripping the handful of hair out as he fumbled to keep up with Zain’s bruising pace back outside.
Zain reached the top of the staircase and flung Omar down the steps. He heard the delegates rushing down the hall behind him. He looked out at the farm and saw a minivan sliding to a stop. His father leaped off a horse but stopped at the far side of the lawn along with the minivan and the line of ATVs filled with Rahmi guards coming to his aid. But it wasn’t Zain who needed to be rescued. It was Omar who was scrambling to his feet at the bottom of the steps.
“You think you can order to have me killed? You think you can shoot my grandmother, my girlfriend, and hurt my friend? You think you can try to turn my citizens against me? You think you can invade my country and get away with it?” Zain unbuttoned his black suit jacket and shrugged it off. The jacket fell to the ground as Suri hurried forward.
“Zain, what is going on?” she asked as the murmurs of the dignitaries who started to spread out behind him grew louder.
“Why don’t you tell her, Omar? Tell her how you used Ambassador Maher and his son, Kareem, to turn Suri’s secretary against her. How, on your orders, they created tension between Surman and Rahmi in hopes of causing a war. Why don’t you tell them all about the Tahjad soldiers you sent to Rahmi to act as Rahmi citizens rioting, leaving just enough evidence to cause us to blame Surman? Tell her how you blew up our dock and tried to have my grandmother assassinated along with the rest of the royal family.” Zain pulled at the knot of his black tie until it came undone and threw it near his jacket on the ground.
“Why don’t you tell them all of your desire to take over Rahmi for our oil? Tell them how you planned to make yourself king and then start the nanotech lab yourself.” Zain slowly started walking down the steps toward Omar, who started to back up but ran into Zain’s father and his friends.
“You did this?” Suri demanded and then faced Cassidy who had jumped out of the minivan with the others. “Tell them all Surman stands by her family. We will defend Rahmi against any and all attacks to their sovereignty.”
Zain heard Cassidy issue Suri’s edict as the other interpreters spoke at once in multiple languages as they made it out of the house. But he didn’t care about diplomats or his summit in this moment. He had a score to settle. “You dare go after women because they were easier targets?” Zain asked menacingly as the delegates formed a circle with Rahmi guards, his friends, and family on the lawn, closing Omar and Zain inside the ring.
“Well, Omar, I’m who you wanted to kill, so have at it. Or are you too much of a coward? You tried to kill me before and it didn’t work. You know, it’s so hard to find good people to carry out your dirty work anymore,” Zain taunted. “You took your country by force. You have suppressed your people and I feel ashamed. We all should be because we let you. Well, no more. I’m not going to kiss your ass in the name of diplomacy. I’m just not that kind of prince.”
Zain made a swing for Omar, but Omar ducked and darted away. Zain let him go. He watched as Omar shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal long white scars from previous battles. “You didn't think I've gotten to where I am by sitting in a palace, did you, little boy?”
Zain didn’t respond to the taunting. He waited, knowing Omar was going to fight and knowing he wasn’t going to fight fair. Omar charged him. Zain waited until the last minute to move. He stepped to the side and shoved. Omar went sprawling at Ahmed’s feet. When Omar looked up, Ahmed smiled predatorily down at him.
“I call next,” Ahmed said almost happily.
Zain waited in the middle of the manicured lawn for Omar. They faced off with their weight on the balls of their feet and their arms out in front of them, waiting for an opening to strike. They circled, each evaluating the other’s weakness. Zain found it first and landed a punch to Omar’s stomach but took a hit to the kidneys for it. They went at each other then. The waiting was over.